


'No' In Russian

by gymwrites



Category: Gymnastics RPF
Genre: F/F, One Shot, Prompt Fic, raistafina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 13:07:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8625574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gymwrites/pseuds/gymwrites
Summary: A typical Saturday morning with Aly, Aliya and... Amira.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another one shot request, this time with an adorable addition to the family.

Soft jazz wafts over the easy Saturday morning air currently pouring through the flung-open French doors of Aly Raisman and Aliya Mustafina’s new, freshly painted apartment. The pleasant symphony of sight and sound is soon joined by a gurgle, a grin that harnesses the power of two blazing suns, and then, in a tiny, but surprisingly commanding voice - 

“Nyet.”

Aliya sighs, putting down the spoon balancing a tiny piece of braised brocolli. She looks straight into the pair of mischievous, dark chocolate eyes that gleefully recognize another easy victory has been won. “Amira Lilia Hannah Yelena Mustafina Raisman. You make life very hard for me.” Aliya’s words are mournful and resigned, but are in deep contrast to the warmth in her tone. Her eyes sweep lovingly over the toddler’s toothy, Raisman-esque smile and wispy brown hair, prompting another joyous gurgle.

A big laugh emanates from behind the kitchen counter. Aliya swivels in her chair to direct a reproachful look at the American wearing an apron covered in a ridiculous amount of flour. 

Strong hands expertly knead a heavenly scented shortbread dough into submission. As she reaches for more flour, Aly returns the all-too-familiar ‘look’ with a sympathetic shrug and the glowing smile Aliya blames for turning her life upside down all those years ago. Sometimes Aliya wakes up early, listening to the quiet, steady breathing next to her, still not quite believing the magnitude of everything that smile has blessed her with. If she doesn’t drift back to sleep first, she closes her eyes, heart full to the point of bursting, and sends up a silent prayer of gratitude.

Aly’s smile widens. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Meeting Aliya’s seriousness with further teasing only stokes the Russian’s fire even more. Which is exactly why she teases. “She still thinks she can get away with not eating her greens,” she continues. “I think it’s because we gave her too many names, like a royal baby… It’s all gone to her adorable head.” 

Aliya deftly arches an eyebrow. “Nyet. Not because of names. Because you spoil her too much, Raisman.”

“Me, spoil her?” Aly’s mouth drops open in pretend shock. “Who was the one breathing murder down that poor salesperson’s neck if he didn’t magically pull a limited edition Mighty Doll out of thin air?”

“I not murder anyone,” Aliya responds stiffly. “Mira was upset. I ask him very nice for help.” Her face immediately softens and breaks into an adoring smile when Amira reaches out a pudgy hand at the sound of her own name.

“Babe, you started threatening him in Russian.”

Aliya’s eyes are fixed on the excitable toddler, now repeatedly grabbing at her finger and shrieking with joy, but she’s not letting Aly get away with exaggerating the truth. “You Americans, always think Russians sound more bad... harsh... than we are. We say ‘please pass salt’, and you think we ask for human head on stick. ”

Aly has to work really hard to stifle her laughter, because even after spending every day of the past four years blissfully married to the biggest softie she knows, she still finds Aliya asking for someone’s head a lot easier to imagine than her asking for someone to please pass the salt. First impressions last - and Aliya’s reputation as Queen of RBF is set to last unto all eternity. Besides, Aly’s Russian has improved a lot since their days of elite competition, and she’s pretty sure Aliya had threatened everything _just_   _short of_ the salesman’s head if he didn’t help make Amira’s birthday wish come true. But before Aly can continue to tease, Aliya has already determinedly picked up the spoon again, cooing and coaxing and speaking a strange mix of Russian, English and gobbledy-gook to their daughter. 

As Aly watches, her heart does the backflips it always does when it hits her - hard - that she’s been gifted the most beautiful family anyone could ever wish for.

This time there is no gurgle, because Amira’s lips have stubbornly pursed themselves together. The toddler’s eyes reflect a glint that wouldn’t be out of place on the determined face of a hardened Olympic champion.

Aliya finally throws her hands up in defeat, but not before shooting a still-grinning Aly her trademark glare. “Okay, Aly. Come here. Now. I pay ten dollars if you do better than me.”

“Seriously. Ten dollars?”

Aliya tilts her head to the side, an inviting smile spreading slyly across her lips. “And other payment also.”

Aly hurriedly washes her hands under the tap, wipes them dry and rolls up her sleeves. If being the eldest of four siblings had taught her anything, it was how to trick babies into doing what you wanted them to. She strolls over to the royal high chair, sits down in the seat next to Aliya’s, and picks up the spoon between her fingers.

“Wow, look, Mimi! What’s that flying in the sky? Is it a bird?” The silver utensil and its green cargo zoom through the airspace above Amira’s head, captivating the toddler’s attention. “Is it a plane? No, I don’t think so!” Rumbling engine noises escape from Aly’s throat as she animatedly steers the spoon from left to right and back again. Aliya stares dumbfoundedly at her partner in crime, shaking her head, but also secretly wanting to grab the American and pull her into a spontaneous kiss. She is being so _unfairly adorable._

 _“_ It’s Superwoman!” The spoon travels with lightning speed towards the enraptured toddler’s open mouth, closer and closer to its target... 

A tiny hand swats at the incoming spoon with sniper-like accuracy, sending the vegetable tumbling towards the floor.

“Nyet!” Delighted peals of laughter follow the successful sabotage, as if little Amira can’t believe they actually thought they had her fooled.

Aly Raisman and Aliya Mustafina exchange looks of utter helplessness.

Between their eighteen Olympic medals, countless international and national championship titles, glamor photo shoots and TV interviews, they are as formidable a couple as ever existed. They have met, dined with and been personally congratulated by the presidents of the two most powerful countries in the world. All that hardware, and fame, and fortune…

And yet here they are. A lonely piece of broccoli lies untouched on their polished timberwood floor. Meanwhile, they sit, powerless in the presence of their petite, brilliantly wide-eyed and perfect-in-every-way bundle of energy that is their daughter. The irony of the situation isn’t lost on either of them. 

For a few introspective moments, the two are united by an overwhelming humility in the face of all the challenges of parenthood and broccoli warfare. But then - 

“You know Aliya,” Aly begins, a small smile creeping up her face, “... there’s a reason why she prefers to say ‘no’ in Russian.”

The only thing that keeps Aliya from breathing murder down Aly’s neck is her newfound weakness for the best home-made shortbread in all of Boston.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Amira (also spelled Ameerah or Ameera) (Arabic: أميرة) is of Arabic & Hebrew origin. Its meaning is "Princess", “Commander” or “one who leads”.
> 
> Aliya (also spelled Aliye, Alia, or Aliyah) is a name mainly of Hebrew, Arabic, Persian, and Turkish origin. It is the female equivalent of the name Ali, meaning "high" and "exalted".
> 
> Alexandra (Greek: Ἀλεξάνδρα) is of Greek origin, and is the feminine form of Alexander, which can be roughly translated into “defender” or “protector of man”.
> 
> What a family, huh?


End file.
